


if you don’t love me (lie to my face).

by anxiouspunk



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/F, Heavy Angst, I know they have names but I can’t fully spell them and autofill isn’t working, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Unrequited Love, as I edited this I also realized my timeline might be slightly off, blink 182’s ‘pin the grenade’ as title, but it’s too late to fix it no so ehh, it’s honestly probably the most I’ve stuck to asp’s horribly unfortunate canon timeline though, still on pretty good track though for someone who hasn’t seen past s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiouspunk/pseuds/anxiouspunk
Summary: paris recounts all the things rory gilmore is.and all the things she isn't to her.
Relationships: Paris Geller & Rory Gilmore, Paris Geller/Rory Gilmore
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	if you don’t love me (lie to my face).

rory gilmore is starting at chilton.

and paris won’t say it was love at first sight. because she couldn’t, truthfully. in reality, it was more like a great deal of anger and lurking jealousy, at first sight.

but, she can say the first time she met rory, she was immediately intertwined with her. and a lot of that was to do with the fact she couldn’t get rory to _leave._ in the beginning, paris was sure this was something she could get rid of, like a stain, that as long as she kept scrubbing away, rory would go. 

she didn’t. she almost  _refused._

maybe that had to due with their overlap. the similarities neither at first would admit, the same passions, making them fall into each other’s paths despite paris repeatedly trying to _avoid_ rory. but being constantly forced together did make paris, _slowly,_ see their pieces that fit into each other.

paris doesn’t believe in soulmates. she doesn’t believe in many things, really. that was for idiots who unironically read nicholas sparks novels and get sucked into enjoying rom-coms. and in honesty, how was she suppose to see the cold looks and cutting words used to hurt each other from her parents and think there was anyone meant to belong to her, let alone any love that would sustain.

until rory started worming her way in. until paris finally learned how to lower her weapons and let rory take a step inside and be as gentle with her as all the times paris tried to attack. until she let herself, against all her mother’s warnings in doing so would send anyone interested ducking for cover, actually _be_ herself and find the same likes _and_ likeliness in rory. until way into the future when paris stormed into the gilmore house and begged lorelai to get rory to come back to yale because rory was now, actually, gone from her life and there was a giant terrifying hole in paris’s life that she didn’t know how to fix. _without her I’ll fall apart._

she still didn’t believe in soulmates.

but in all the time she’s spent on this earth and all the people she’s met who drove her mad and all the things that rory meant to her and all the ways she fits with her, it makes her believe in something. and maybe that thing is rory gilmore.

it’ll take all those years though, to actually see what she meant to rory.

-

rory gilmore is pretty.

that was the first thing paris saw. it didn’t take a genius to decipher. and it wasn’t like paris cared, no sir. she was just replaying facts. calling them as she sees them.

it wasn’t an obvious pretty. it wasn’t make-up palettes and covers of air-brushed faces on magazines. not in the _trying to look like college freshmen_ way madeline and louise were going for, or the _trying to make these implants look like I haven’t even heard about_ _menopause_ like her mother was aiming for. 

it just….was. rory didn’t try to play it up or play it down. blue eyes bright, smile just a perfect balance of sweet and shy, and even if she had a bit of babyface, it worked for her. she was pretty.

it made paris nervous. and she hated feeling nervous. she chalked it up to jealousy, a pinpoint of competition. after all, what guy would ever want her when rory gilmore was just walking around looking like that?

the thing is, competition didn’t make her nervous. it usually did the opposite; excited her, knowing there, with luck, was going to be a tussle for the top. but this time, pretty rory gilmore, made her nervous instead. she decided not to look at it, at why. she only pushed forward, on her warpath of spitting threats and cold shoulders – even the moment when she leaned past rory’s shoulder to hiss the threats in her ear, she could smell the shampoo clouding the shiny thick head of dark hair. lavender. it made her stomach twist up again and her heart triple in beats –  _adrenaline_ , she decides.

because even thinking about why she felt like this, made her twice as nervous.

-

rory gilmore is smart.

you had to be, to get into chilton. but while any student here could pass as ‘smart’, keep the grades to  hold their spot here, rory was  smart in a way that mattered.

you could tell, by the way she answered questions. the peak in her voice and the first few to raise a hand – and not to look good in front of the teachers, but because passion burned underneath it.

it _was_ annoying, in the beginning. paris quietly seething as rory, _purposefully,_ called answers before she could get there. who was she trying to impress anyway? no one, paris soon realized, which was perhaps the most frustrating thing. she was just genuinely interested and _wanted_ to have stimulating talks. too bad for her, that paris was about the only other person at chilton who also wanted that.

you’d think their  similarities would bring them together, but paris would rather have her skin peeled off then throw up a white flag to rory. but maybe there could’ve been a change when she was rounding the corner from ap science  and suddenly a body struggling to hold an ugly mustard coloured backpack overflowing with books slams right into her – 

and then she’s on the floor. and so is rory, a sea of spilled books between them.

“god, do you _wait_ for me specifically to do that?!” paris snarled, leaning up to dust herself off. 

“well I’d hate to do it to someone who _wasn’t_ out to put my head on a spike..” rory quipped, already starting to scoop up her books “sorry..” 

paris furrowed, lips pressing together. she looks down at the novels rory’s trying to collect from the tile floor – a far few too many, even by paris’s standards.

“do you always carry a mini portable library around with you?” she asks, not a hundred percent sure why.

“I need all these books.” rory assured. paris looks down again, leaning down to pick up the two last covers.

“right, because _1984_ matches really well with..” paris snorted, eyes nearly going back _“the collective works of sylvia plath_ – you really had to pick some depressing books didn’t you..”

“I dunno,” rory reaches out, taking the books back and paris saw her fingertips just miss her own “I think there’s something beautiful about the way george and julia fight for their lovestory against evils trying to crush it – amungst all the very long winded political jargon, that is..”

“and the occasional sexually violent misogyny.”

“fair. and, plath, even through her struggles, went on to lead kind of an amazing life through all her writings.”

“she killed herself by sticking her head in an oven. and her husband cheated on her. try again gilmore.”

rory scoffed, lips curling up. she zipped up her bag, and then glanced up to paris, staring her right in the eyes. normally that would make paris ruffle her feathers in response, buckle down for a fight, but this time she met rory’s eyes with more neutrality, steady and curious.

“..it was plath who said _‘perhaps some day I’ll crawl back home, beaten, defeated._ _but_ _not before I can make stories out of my_ _heartbreak,_ _beauty out of sorrow.’_ I think _that’s_ kind of amazing in it’s own right.”

paris snorted again, but with less sharpness. a bemused smile filtered over her mouth.

“.. _‘_ _I_ _write only because there is a voice in me that will not be still.’_

rory half-smiled back, to the few words paris has spoken to her that didn’t have razor edges. there was a beat of silence where paris wondered just how many more literary things rory could string from just memory.

“flirting with the enemy paris?”

madeline and louise appeared from no where, approaching the two from the side, wearing grins that paris could only describe as ‘smarmy.’ trying to make some kind of joke at having caught paris with rory without her teeth showing.

“ _no_ – what the hell is it to you?!” she barked, feeling her cheeks suddenly heat. her sheep dutifully stepped back, losing their grins. paris spun to rory, finding her smile also gone. her teeth grit together, forming a glare. 

but instead, she turned back  to the  inseparable two. she hissed a  _c’mon_ and grabbed them by the arm each, dragging them off to their next class, leaving rory  and any chances behind. 

or, almost. right as madeline and louise fall right back into their conversation of the newest  _seventeen_ louise picked up, paris took what felt like an  involuntary glance behind her shoulder – not totally sure what she thought she was going to see, because it certainly couldn’t be that rory was still waiting there, staring back at her, also wondering what other literary quips they could give each other. 

rory was gone too, paris just catching the mustard yellow slipping by the opposite hall corner before it  disappeared.

-

rory gilmore likes dean.

paris doesn’t know dean. and she hates him. which is even more confusing.

it just seems a little turbulent, if you ask her. they were together, split apart, and then eloped again? quite honestly, paris couldn’t understand why rory would bother,  _especially_ considering how ridiculous his reasoning for breaking up in the first place was. he gave up rory, beautiful and brilliant rory, because she wasn’t ready to tell him a three word phrase yet?! really, the stupidity of men just keeps impressing her. he has no idea what he was throwing away, how lucky he was. what others probably wouldn’t give to be in his position. 

not that paris cares. she doesn’t. she just thinks he’s dumb. and that he has a stupid name. he probably couldn’t even name  _one_ of  those books rory was toting around.

but, it’s also not like paris understands. when she sits with rory in the tacky but comfortable house, nervously perched on the edge of the bed as rory looks over at her and they’re close enough their shoulders could skim, asking  _you really miss him?,_ there’s a sad undertone to rory’s sighed  _yeah_ she doesn’t get. perhaps she should  _be_ in a relationship before passing all this judgment. 

easier said then done though, when any time her friends bring up boys she’d rather pull  out her hair. or when madeline and louise ask rory about dean,  _how tall_ and  _how cute,_ and rory smiles. not the smile that makes paris’s heart  scream and a warmth spread in her stomach.  one that made her stomach curdle instead. thinking, when rory answers  _yes he is cute_ and  _I guess my favourite part is his hair,_ she wishes a hole would open up around her. rather she’ll just snap that can they  _please_ get back on topic?! 

she’ll get it, she guesses, when she gets one of these relationship things. maybe then she’ll have to hear less about dean and wonder why someone like rory would want to be with him.

-

rory gilmore is kind.

paris already knew that, obviously. she knew it when she stirred bad-mouth rumours about rory’s mother and medina, desperate for anything to get the judging eyes from her parents divorce off her back, and  expected a tooth-and-nail fight she didn’t get. she knew rory was capable of it, when she stood up snarling right to paris in the middle of class,  _what the hell is wrong with you?!,_ so she’d suited up for it – and rory came back with a gentle understanding and no grudges held.  that’s when paris on a last whim came to rory for date  help, and she let paris in regardless of having every reason not to. 

it was an odd weapon of choice. not one paris all together understood.

but maybe, it was because there wasn’t anything to understand about it. no intent to weaponize. because  later on, when she’s standing in rory’s kitchen, ready to return to her own empty house for more desolate re-reads of  her favourite books, and the next words from rory’s pink lips are  _stay._

there’s no motive for rory to ask that. no need to make appeasements like before so paris will stop spreading rumours, or because she was on rory’s porch and probably wouldn’t leave unless rory helped her. she was already going, no reason to stay, and somehow rory is asking her anyway.

_like a sleepover?_

_I guess. I’m doing this because it’s what you do with friends._

and that’s when paris gets it. it’s just real kindness. and rory’s  _c’mon, stay_ is almost pushing and spoken through a smile and paris suddenly softens herself. 

the impromptu drop-ins of jess and dean provide more drama then paris cared for, but overall, it was fun. foods she was never allowed on her own and cheesy t.v she’s never seen so rory could have her fun explaining the characters and ridiculous plot-devices. and then, in a blink, they were getting ready for bed. paris was putting on rory’s matching pair of pink button-up pajamas with cartoon bears wearing nightcaps ( _“sorry, it’s my nicest pair.”)_ and she wasn’t sure what she’s been expecting – but rory got into bed and then pulled back the blankets on the other side for her, and paris felt her stomach drop through. she stumbles through asking that they were, in fact, suppose to sleep in there together, and rory said she didn’t really wanna demote paris to the floor, nor did she think paris wanted to know when the last time her mom cleaned off the couch was (paris didn’t). 

so, she slips under sheets beside her once enemy, head hitting the pillow, and rory clicks off the lamp light, enveloping them in darkness.

paris can’t move. her legs glued together and arms to her sides, wide eyes burning through the ceiling above her. all too aware of rory’s soft breathing next to her. she feels her own breathing, her own heartbeat, raging wildly again. oh god, could rory  _hear_ her heart beating?!

there was a small laugh.

“paris, you can unclench. I didn’t guide you in here to stick a knife in your abdomen or something.”

rory’s voice is quiet in the dark, gentle. paris pretends she doesn’t like it.

“I know.” she says, because she does.

“..you _can_ sleep on the couch or something you know, if it’s more comfortable –”

“no.”

it comes out fast, almost slurred, paris not even really expecting it. technically, she’d probably be more comfortable on the tacky couch or floor. but she doesn’t want to. it was warm in the bed and she can smell the lavender of rory’s hair that makes her this happy dizzy and she can sense how rory’s hand is simply laying maybe ten inches away from hers.

“it’s my first big time sleepover. I wanna do it the right way.”

rory scoffs “alright. I’ll grade your performance in the morning.”

rory closes her eyes then, face pressed into her pillow. paris shifts her eyes over, to the pale cheeks with the barely-there light from the window grazing over. she didn’t have to do any of this. she didn’t have to make this kind offer. and yet, she did. paris would always put aside weaknesses such as kindness, but she sort of loves it on rory.

she never used to sleep well, but this time, once she let herself slip from her own stringent grip, it was one of the better sleeps she’d had.

(she also counts how many times rory’s or her hand accidentally skids across the others. it was  seven.)

-

rory gilmore likes jess.

well, she pretended she didn’t. but frankly you could see it from a mile away. and this time, paris doesn’t hate him like dean. sure, he’s aloof, pretends he’s above all of this town (though paris can’t a hundred percent say she blames him), and is generally a bit of a jackass. but he makes up for it in other ways. he knew books, paris actually impressed with his debate in literary authors. he had a pretty good taste in junk food. deep down, he was a worthwhile guy, once you worked past the layers of anger and jadedness.

and he was into rory.

so it made sense, in no time, they were together. and paris hates jess too.

this was perhaps the most confusing. despite not knowing all that much about the guy, she thought he was a far better suit for rory then dean was. and she couldn’t put her feelings on jealousy anymore, now that her and rory were...friends. sort of. paris didn’t hate the girl anymore, like she used to. they were friends, and friends are happy for each other. she just couldn’t get rid of this one thought.

she could be jess.

really. the similarities were weirdly uncanny. crappy homelife with less then desired parents. the roaring love of books and the ability to debate them for days. the, perhaps hidden, love of foods her parents wouldn’t catch her dead eating. walls of anger and perfected ability to push others away that was only whittled down by the patience and kindness of rory gilmore. and, of course, the fondness of her that they may or may not admit to, depending on who’s asking.

but paris isn’t dating rory gilmore. obviously. she never would. and she has no idea why that hurts as much as it does.

other then the fact jess was a marker, of how close she  _could’ve_ been.

she was coming back from a study session with rory, walking into the empty gellmore mansion as she left rory to meet up with jess tonight. she’d given her shit for cutting it a little short, but whatever, it just means she’ll sharpen her vocab words on her own. she props up her school bag and begins shifting through it – textbook, binder, worksheets, another textbook – and then discovers something that shouldn’t be in there.

it was suppose to be her jacket, but pulling out the purple material made it clear it was not. what it does mean, is that now rory has her jacket as she has her sweater. paris sighed, holding it up – what was she suppose to do with this now?

standing in her silent room, she pulled out her cell, dialing rory because clearly this mix-up needed addressing. she doesn’t get through of course. no one picks up.

because she’s out. with jess. doing whatever it was rory wouldn’t tell her when paris was packing up her work. whatever. paris tossed her phone to the bed, crumpling up the sweater in her hands. it was rory’s choice to get the lesser grade for not studying as long as paris wanted to because of whatever stupid thing jess was doing with her. and it was probably stupid. just because she found him slightly less of an idiot then dean didn’t mean she believed any teenage boy had any emotional competence for dating. what did she even see in him anyway? he was rude, would rather give a sarcastic snip then have any conversation, and pretended he was better then needing rory or any one else.

_...then why does rory hang out with you?_

paris huffed. she guessed the only difference was that jess got the date. paris got the door.

that, and whatever it was that made jess wanted, but not her. and deep down, past the anger that stirred up the horrible feeling crawling in her stomach, paris knew what that was.

she stared down at the sweater. held it up to her face. it was soft and it smelled exactly like rory, lavender traces and something homely that makes an invisible fist squeeze paris’s heart. something that caused a frightened, internal gasp of _oh god._ something that knocks her iron soul right down to it’s knees.

she should put it away. she should put it back in her bag and act like it’s not there. she shouldn’t do this.

somehow, paris holds it up and she slides it on, the gentle fabric and lavender enveloping her. she gets up onto her bed and lays back, gripping onto the zippered edges and pulls it tight and squeezes her eyes shut and willfully drowns, thinking about how right now rory’s probably wearing his jacket over her shoulders as they go on their date and her head runs over and over,

_it’ll never be you it’ll never be you it’ll never be you it’ll never be you –_

-

rory gilmore is funny.

like, actually funny. not in the obnoxious way everyone else is. there’s this sweet exterior, but then there’s something sharp underneath it, that comes out in her humour. and paris kind of loves that.

it’s not like she’s trying hard, she’s just _genuinely_ funny. she’s not a try-hard, and if paris hates anything it’s a try-hard. someone who, apparently, isn’t emotionally filled until they get everyone in the room to laugh at their seemingly effortless quip despite the obvious fact they’ve been waiting for three hours to find the right time to say it. ugh.

but rory’s not like that. she knows her moments. and what’s worse, is that paris actually found them funny. she enjoyed rory’s often sarcastically drawled liners and sometimes they’re the reason she smiles at all. and humour isn’t ever what she’s looking for in someone; that’s mostly competence and the ability to not annoy her to no end. humour was the last thing on her list.

but rory made her love it. another frustrating thing about her.

however, paris knows them so well by now she can tell when it’s a quip and when it’s meant to cover something up. humour as a defense. she’s learned it from the best, from the woman before her, after all. and that was going on right now, as paris watched rory unpack her (second) box of books onto her side of their dorm room.

paris knew it, the second she saw the shocked, pressed smile on rory’s face when it was revealed that _she_ would be her new roomie going into her college years. maybe she should’ve told rory first, prepped her, but the girl was half-way around the world in euorpe so how was she suppose to get a hold of her (a lie paris made, fully knowing she could've called but was too afraid of rory having a negative reaction, like right now)? she’s been joking like she’s fine ever since lorelai and everyone left and it was just them left to set-up, but paris can see right through her, and knew they couldn’t keep up this charade.

paris sighs, walking right up to rory as the brunette admires her cover of _wuthering heights_ “you hate this.”

rory jumps slightly, turning to paris “..well only sickos enjoy moving. I’m holding out for the take-out I assume we’re getting after this.”

“not _that._ you don’t want be roommates, just admit it.”

“I never said that – but if you want, I can open my mouth a little wider if you wanna keep stuffing words in it.”

“I don’t have to! it was obvious by the very subdued and politely shocked reaction you had once realizing we were going to be living together for at least the next year.”

“well, I mean, we haven’t even had the talk yet so –”

“that’s not funny.” paris cut off, quickly growing tired of this “stop trying to hide behind poor jokes.”

rory sighs, head tipping back slightly – but she loses her half-way smile, and when she looks back at paris, paris can tell she’s being genuine.

“alright, I’m sorry. really. you just caught me off guard, honest. I was prepped to do a whole meet-n-greet, where-you-from-what’s-your-major thing and end up either loving or hating the new hypothetical roomate.”

“well lucky for you you don’t have to bother getting to know your roommate before getting to hating them.”

“c’mon, that’s not fair –”

“well you couldn’t have possibly been _less_ excited by the news gilmore! you know what, I’ll just go down to the office and ask for a transfer, there’s still got to be some singles left out –”

“ _no,_ wait, paris –”

she was half-way to the door when rory grabbed her arm, pulling her back, and paris actually catches a look of remorse.

“just – don’t go..”

“why?! give me a reason to actually believe you want me here!”

“because I don’t want another person, especially some schmuck I may not even get along with.”

paris blinked back, taking a second to process “...you get along with everybody! it’s a very aggravating trait of yours.”

“get along might just mean I tolerate them, but doesn’t mean we’ll actually enjoy each other’s company.”

“...you like my company?”

“you think if I didn’t, I would have found a way out by now?” rory raised a brow, watching paris smile slightly “it’s true what I said about being shocked, but now that I’m past that I didn’t stop to weigh the pluses of having my friend here, who knows how I like my coffee and who’s obnoxious early bird routine is going to keep me from wasting my mornings sleeping in.”

paris scoffed, nearly allowing a laugh “..so, you actually want to be roommates together?..”

“in all kinds of weather.” rory beams back.

finally, paris cracked, chuckling as her own half-way smile crawled over. she shook her head slightly.

“what?...” rory asked.

“I just realized I’m going to have to undergo a whole, at most, year of..that.”

“if you’re _lucky.”_ rory grins. and paris laughs again.

yeah, she guessed. while it was just them, she was.

-

rory gilmore is drunk.

obviously a bizarre thing in of itself. and it's only exacerbated by paris also being drunk. drunk, and currently sitting inside an empty hotel bathtub.

they barely stumbled back in one piece from the beach. rory is in the room somewhere, having gone on the search for those bbq chips she's confident she left somewhere. and somehow, in the blur between then and now, paris sunk herself in the cool, white tub with the curtain drawn because she needed a hole to crawl into and this is the only standing option.

sitting back against the tub end, legs splayed out and eyes closed. hair put down now which was scratching her face. she smelt of beach sand and her clothes were still sticky with sweat from the insufferable heat. she felt like she could still hear the thump of the club music reverberating in her head, egging on the vice currently gripping around it. a perfectly miserable end to a perfectly miserable trip.

there was a light thump outside, followed by drunk grumbling. maybe it wasn't the best idea to leave an intoxicated rory scrounging for snacks alone.

but paris wanted to be alone. away from her, in a way she hadn't since she got the first ever glance of that ugly yellow backpack in the school halls.

what does rory want with her anyway? nothing, according to the way she stormed out of the club, leaving paris behind so her shouted apologies became empty and she was left to feel ashamed for using madeline and louise's suggestion as a guise for the one thing she's deep down always wanted to do. the thing, that when she was sixteen and wearing a bad wig and in front of a seated crowd of watching parents she was too scared to do.

nothing, according to the _no way_ rory had scoffed. nothing, to saying _you're way too high maintenance for me_ like she hadn't ground her heel into whatever pieces of life she'd breathed into paris's heart that hadn't become jaded yet. nothing. that's what paris meant. because who wants the girl who's too much work, the bitch, the one no one's ever wanted. just like her mother use to warn her. paris squeezed her eyes tighter, feeling them sting.

but wasn't it good to know, that the only person she thought actually could want her, the only one she's ever wanted the most, didn't.

the tacky, floral curtain was thrown back. paris flinches, eyes scrunching tighter. she doesn't even have to look, sensing rory's silhouette.

"go away." she hissed.

"I found the chips!" rory grins, holding up the brown bag with the other hand already stuffed with chips "I thought maybe you'd want some."

"get away from me." paris threatened, perfectly venomous but quiet and lacking her trademarked fire, something she just didn't have the strength to speak right now. she wants rory to leave and she wants her to take her good heart and her humour and her brilliance and her blue eyes and her compatibility and everything and go, but she's so tired.

"don't be a grump." rory lifts a leg and tentatively puts it inside the tub, shoving paris's legs "move over."

"I thought you didn't want to be around me." she growled, glaring over with wet eyes at her best friend who couldn't be more oblivious if she tried "I'm too high maintenance, remember? you don't want to be with me, remember? too much, aren't I? I'm broken, right rory? unlovable, right?"

"..you're one of my best friends." is all rory says and paris swears she nearly leaps up to strangle her, tiredness be damned, but before any of that rory's leg, as she tries to get it over and tuck it inside the tub, hits the shower nozel and in seconds they're being sprayed in cold water.

there's screaming and calamity, paris getting a wet lap and shirt and rory a wet head, before in the chaos of paris scrambling and yelling to turn it off, rory reaches up and does it. a beat of silence, both of them breathing wildly and dripping. and then rory bursts into laughter. paris squeezes her eyes shut again, her usual surge of anger just somehow dying out in her tiredness.

"I hate you." she muttered, laying back in defeat.

"no you don't." rory's somehow weaseled a spot in between the tub wall and paris, leaning her body down against the blonde's, damp head of hair laying on her arm, just about at her waist. paris simply laid back and watched her eyes close and slow down, watched her like she always seems to do.

"no, I don't." she finally says, tone growing lower "I love you.."

"I love you too.." rory mumbles back, with all the casual kindness it meant to her and all the nothing it meant to paris, who's throat is getting tighter, whispering so low even she could hardly hear it.

"..no you don't."

it didn't matter how quietly it was said anyway. rory had already nodded off on paris's shoulder.

they don't stay there long, due to it being one of the more uncomfortable places you could crash. and it's after they get up, but not before the next morning when they wake up with hangovers that could kill a man and before they take their flight out that paris just tries to sleep through and before they get back to their place where paris leaves rory to figure out this dean thing like she was probably going to do and before she goes to see asher who barely has time to say hello before she's pushing him into bed and before they have sex where paris feels his grip smeared all over her body and before she cries in his washroom after while he sleeps –

before all that, paris drags rory up and they stumble back to the bed, and for some reason rory stays in her bed despite having her own. and paris listens to the gentle breaths beside her that do little to numb the anxiety chewing her alive until she finally falls asleep to them like she always does.

(she counts again, how many times rory's hand brushed hers. it was ten).

-

rory gilmore likes logan.

paris hates logan. honestly. it isn't an oversimplification this time. because she knew him. and she wishes she didn't. she wants an undo button. she pleads for nothing more then to have the blissfully unaware days of dean back.

he's arrogant, full of himself, and didn't know how to do anything more than spend his daddy's money. on the outside, he looks like never even would touch the rim of rory's type.

but rory gilmore was going to marry him. and like that, paris doesn't know her anymore.

she was suppose to be the same girl she met in high school who's passion was the only one to hold a flame to hers? who was one of the most brilliant writers she's come across, who wanted to chase those dreams of writing, who the world paris knew needed to hear from? and _she_ was the girl, out of all the ones in their grad class who already had a line-up of suitors and had planned their weddings by the age of ten, who was going to marry young? paris could hardly stand it.

rory was going to hate it. she was going to have to stand around upper elites and pretend like she cared anything about country clubs and designer lines. she'll have to sit with her new mother-in-law who she already doesn’t like and the other women while they trash talk the new family that's just moved up the lane. she'll have to learn how to hiss cruel words and make them sound like compliments, which a heart like hers could never do. she'll probably end up walking up an _absurd_ amount of stairs in the five story house they'll get. she'll have to learn how to differentiate her dinner forks. and she's going to hate it.

they don't deserve her. _he_ doesn't deserve her. for once though, she bites her tongue, because saying so and having rory scorn her was a worst outcome then having to hold it all down.

but it's proven when there's a knocking on paris's door the night her own relationship split and it's _not_ chinese food. instead, it's rory in a nice dress and the saddest look paris has ever seen her wear. _logan cheated on me with the entire bridal party,_ said as bluntly as possible so rory could push the emotion out of it like she does but paris saw it anyway. paris has to bite down her _I knew it, I knew it_ because despite the joy being right gives her, she didn't want to be right for this. rory didn't deserve the horrible treatment that trust-fund waste-of-space gave her, regardless of it's inevitability. instead their arms go around each other and hold tight.

but when logan shows up, is when she gets her fun.

paris is an expert on anger. she has a good record of consistency. but this, was one of the times she's rattled with the most spite. she just _lays_ into him. that, _out of respect for my friend rory here,_ she's kept her silence, but oh boy, no longer. she let him know every part of it, the little he offers and the disgrace he brings to every woman he comes in contact with. she might as well have just gone and pulled out his jugular, something she almost considered. the best part though, was rory's drawled _I think paris has got it._ the blonde was never prouder.

the thing is, she doesn't know if she won't go back. it was a very rory gilmore thing to do; to understand unconditionally, to say _he really does have a good heart underneath._ and paris could do nothing to stop it.

but not right now. right now, rory's beside her and clicks the cheap wooden chopsticks to paris's, smiling as she agrees to her propositioned ban on men. just them. something paris has always loved more then anything. just rory.

just her, and rory, who falls asleep next to paris on her bed. who knocks out as paris stays awake, getting sleepier as she listens to rory's breathing and the faint lavender she can still trace. looking at her and wondering who the hell logan huntzberger is to ever think any woman could be better. she falls asleep like she usually does when it's rory who fits into the other side of the queen bed – and wondering, with a sinking stomach, how long _just them_ was actually going to last.

(she counted again. it was twelve times).

-

rory gilmore isn’t keeping her word.

first, she promised paris she’d call last week. then, when she didn’t, told paris she’d call first thing the starting next week, monday. she didn’t call then either. after that, she swore she’d call the friday, after 5, and that was for sure this time. it’s six now. and paris’s cell was silent.

rory’s lucky paris can’t quite call yet, due to being slightly behind schedule on some class worksheets. med school was proving it’s difficulty, but it was nothing paris couldn’t conquer. but for her best friend, currently half-way across the country in washington, paris had no idea what could be keeping _her_ so busy. sure the campaign trail never provided a dull moment – according to rory’s past phone calls – but _really._ the last time they talked was a month and a half ago. paris kept count.

her cell suddenly lit up, blaring that obnoxious ring-tone she meant to change forever ago. she snatched it so quickly she accidentally dropped her ballpoint pen.

“it’s six o’clock.”

“I said after five.” was rory’s reply, followed by a bit of static.

“an _hour_ window rory, that’s what’s allotted when you say ‘after five.’ meaning I should’ve heard from you anywhere between 5:05 to 5:50, give or take.”

“since when is that the rule? I said ‘after five’, and it is now sometime _after five.”_

“that’s insane reasoning; you can’t possible expect me to put everything aside and wait for your call potentially anytime between nine or ten at night just because you said you’d call ‘after five’!”

“as insane as waiting nearly two weeks for it though?”

this went on for about ten more minutes. not wanting to max out her minutes however, paris eventually cut her off with ‘whatever, I didn’t want to talk just so we could argue about scheduling and how late you are.’ where after rory comments ‘what else would you have me call for?’ and paris was smiling before she could even tell she was.

they catch up on everything. rory dispels the many demands of following the campaign trail and how tired she was getting of a different hotel every night. and catching her up on lorelai and the many antics of stars hallow of course, which will continue to confuse and shock paris and by now, she’s given up ever understanding. she filled rory in on her latest classes and the idiocy of some of her male classmates who she can’t believe are actually going to become doctors. they talk about this and that and everything in between like they always do because it’s rory paris has always found the easiest to talk with. and her favourite. there was so much catching up and quipping back and forth that paris hardly realizes it’s been an hour, catching the clock on her desk right as rory says,

“anyway, I should probably go. I gotta type up my notes from today, find some kind of acceptable take-out around here that _isn’t_ pizza for the third day in the row..”

“never thought I’d hear you give up on pizza. but agreed – I guess, these worksheets won’t finish themselves..” paris mutters as she looks down at her notes, not making any movement to turn off her phone.

“any closing thoughts you’d like to share with me?”

paris doesn’t know how to tell rory that she misses her. she doesn’t know how to say she misses having her closeby. that she misses not having to schedule their talks. that she misses how she always used to leave the t.v on so paris was constantly hearing sitcom re-runs echo around the house and how rory used to have a cup of coffee for her in the rare morning she got up before paris did. that she just misses her _being here._

“nothing really..” she passes off, gripping tighter onto the phone “but..we’ll talk soon right?” ‘

she hates how desperate she sounds. like a clingy girlfriend. like a clingy girlfriend who’s boyfriend was going on a trip away for her for the first time and she’s terrified he won’t call and really why _wouldn’t_ she when he says he’ll call this week and never does or he takes an hour to call after when he said he would.

“for sure; things are ramping up here so it’s gunna get a bit more hectic, but I’ll try to pencil you in and call..how about next –”

there was a short, loud _beep._ then nothing.

“...rory?! rory!”

dead phone. rory forgot to charge it again. paris sighed, shutting her own and tossing it onto the desk. paris sits there for a couple more minutes, staring blankly at her work. the silence piercing all around and the dark night that’s settled in outside her windows. she could feel her stomach sinking in and she couldn’t name why.

she got up. she marched to her closet, opening it and diving into one of the leftover boxes inside. she had to dig around for a while, but eventually found what she wanted peeking out from some old sheets – a soft lavender, that paris yanks out.

the thing she should’ve given back, but somehow never got around to. she held up the sweater, a little small for her now, but quietly slipped it on anyway. it didn’t really smell like her anymore, but paris could barely catch the lavender sitting around the collar. it made her anxiety calm a bit, but her stomach still felt like it was sinking.

paris went back to her desk. gripped the edges of the sweater, pulling it tight. and eventually, picked her pen back up and got to work.

-

rory gilmore is ~~continuously~~ bad at scheduling.

paris had to blame her poor organization, bred from her mother no doubt. it drives her crazy but when rory suddenly shows up at her door without any warning for the second time, she lets her in anyway.

she's frustrated first when she hears the doorbell, because it was her night off. it was one of the rare times she had with the kids. never a dull moment with two three-year-olds, but she found herself softening as she gave them their bath, the artificial strawberry smell of the loreal kids shampoo in their hair and just about as many toys as they could fit into the wide tub. gabby liked the bubbles, putting them in her hands and blowing them. tim loved his wind-up tug boat, watching it go round and round the bathtub with glee. paris grinned watching them, knowing they wouldn't play like this together when they got older.

it was in the last five minutes of their allowed play time before getting out, when she heard the buzz, stomping down the many, many stairs to chew-out whatever door-to-door sales person or jehovah's witness it was and instead was face to face with her favourite pair of blue eyes.

"I do hope that caught-mid-way look of anger is for me." rory smiles, dark navy pea coat and thick bag swung over her shoulder.

"I thought you were gunna try to sell me something or whatever." paris blinks back "what're you doing here?"

"in the neighbourhood – not to sell you any used vacuums, but, I do have to ask, have you considered jesus christ as your personal saviour?"

paris rolls her eyes and pulls her in by the crook of her elbow, ignoring the grins.

it's no big deal, the kids love her anyway. they've gotten to know her well now, from visits and the times paris has invited the gilmore-danes family over for hannukkah dinners and when they've brought her and the kids for thanksgiving. they light up when seeing rory and she gives the same energy back, helping with their bedtime routine, tugging tim's dinosaur pj's over his head. he always had gravitated towards her best friend; her boy had a much softer personality, never one to talk to new kids and always cried over the stepped-on ants, that made him fit well with rory. paris worried for him when he gets into kindergarten; she was already getting calls from their weekly pre-school about her outgoing and bright daughter. apparently her and another little boy wanted a certain toy, and when he tried to push gabby so he could get it, she turned around and _bit_ him ( _"oh, well, she_ definitely _gets that from doyle.."_ rory cheekily grinned). but paris did yell about how that was _gabby's_ fault. after that they decided it was better to talk to her ex-husband.

kids put to bed finally an hour later, they were left to do their favourite thing together – junk food while watching bad t.v, except now with added wine and volume put on low due to sleeping children. rory is scrounging from the kids fruit snack packs and retelling the latest stories from stars hallow with the great animation, paris's lips curling around her wine glass. the usually empty house filled up with rory's voice and paris is grateful not only for her favourite company, but that she wasn’t hearing the usual screams of silence back at her, reminding her of what she didn't have.

or who she didn't have.

"so," paris took a breath, picking up the bag of goldfish crackers "I hear there are engagement rumours surrounding huntzberger and this girl.."

rory freezes up slightly "how did you..–”

"the upper elite grapevine gilmore – you _know_ my mother calls me only to remind me of each family who's son or daughter is getting married right as my divorce papers are coming in."

"right." rory sighs, swirling the rest of the tid-bit of red wine in their second bottle "I mean..neither of us really believed this could last anyway, so..it-it's not a big deal, he'll be happy with her.."

"and you?" paris posed. she's given rory the 'speech' several times over; that this set-up was toxic, that she deserved something more then this, more then what huntzberger clearly shown time over he couldn't give her – just for her to go back to him consistently. it was like the worst soap opera plot-line. but, in the effort of being a 'good friend', she tries to be there for rory. mostly because by now it was falling on deaf ears.

rory only sighs again, thin smile pressing over "oh, you know, living the life – thirty-something with no house, no car, virtually no relationship, and a career hanging on by the strand of a hair."

"what about the book? I told you I know a couple publishers who I can get to look at it."

"well, I mean, I-I have a couple thousand pages and whatever, but...I dunno, how big is the market for mother-daughter sappy autobiography really, you know? sometimes..I think I need something more viable – like you."

"like _me?"_

“yeah – you always said you were going to do something big, and you've _done it._ head of your own business practice that's only growing by the minute, you know what you're doing and getting success from it, plus adorable kids and really pretty house –”

"I fucking hate this house. don't let the decadence fool you. I've always hated it, but let doyle convince me into buying it because he thought it was a nice neighbourhood for the kids or some bullshit. do you know how many stairs I have to go up and down constantly?! too many! and despite buying the damn thing I'm _still_ not allowed to put a stupid elevator in!" she's clearly had too much wine, but rory's face starts scrunching up as she laughs and then she's grinning too "seriously! all I have is space and no one to fill it, instead mocked by the emptiness. I don't know who the hell we thought we were, who the hell _I_ thought I was, that there were some kind of people or family around who would fill it."

"alright, well.."

"oh no, you don't get to win this pity party." paris shuffled up from her slouch on the sofa, rory playfully rolling her eyes "all that other stuff too – do you not remember the empty briefcase?! it's a fucking metaphor for my career, I swear to god. and while I love the kids, you are not missing _anything_ being a lonely divorced single mom. trust me. honestly, I'm just becoming my mother with every relationship-deprived second."

"paris you are _not_ your mother-"

"aren't I?! I essentially threw away any chance not to be when I gave into getting cosmetic surgery!"

suddenly rory sprung from her spot on the couch, wobbling for a second before leaning into paris and grasping her arm with more seriousness then she ever does.

"you are _not_ her. you've already achieved so much in your career even if you don't feel like you have; you have a drive and ability she never had. and you _love_ those kids, earnestly. I can see it. when you stepped out to drain the bath and everything, gabby was showing me her pretend doctor's kit, telling me all about how _her mommy_ was a doctor.."

paris scoffed, breaking into a smile. she'd walked back into the kids' bedroom right after cleaning up the bathroom, finding gabby pretending to listen to rory's heartbeat with her play stethoscope as the brunette encouraged what a good job she was doing, tim clinging onto her back with arms around her neck like a little monkey, squealing when rory tried to poke him in the stomach. she almost couldn't stop watching, wishing she had a way to capture it. rory with the kids. it made her heart inexplicably ache. it ached right now thinking about it.

"your mom didn't love you like she should've, but you love them, and I know how good you want to do by them. and...there's no skirting around how much the divorce sucks, but it's not the end of _everything._ I _know_ there's someone for you, because you're brilliant and you're amazing, like I've always told you.."

_you're so smart and so special._ paris's heart started hurting again, but not in the gentle way of earlier. she remembered the way rory pulled her out from her spiral and the belief she was worth nothing now that harvard had kicked her to the side. unfortunately, _you're too high maintenance_ shrouded it. the flippant dismissal like it hasn't cut a scar into her that she didn’t know how to fix and the hangover and miserability of that trip and the sinking realization that not only did the one she want would never want the same way, but if rory didn't, then nobody would. or the worst one of all – that rory earnestly meant both of those things.

paris was worth something, but not enough to make it.

silence was holding over and her only defense was to wash this all away with her signature sharpness.

“..wow – thanks for the pep talk, you get that out of self-help book 101?"

"shut up." rory smiled. paris did the same, after taking a deep breath in.

"..well, here we are again, who would've thought it? lamenting to each other about our failed relationships and once more, devastatingly single but now only with half the time to make-up for it."

"..god, do you have more wine?" rory asked and now paris laughed, getting one back "well, whatever. at least we have consistency, and there's strength in numbers – so here's to our collective patheticness."

she held up the end of the wine bottle to paris by the neck. the blonde beamed, tipping the end of her glass to the bottle with a _clink._ she took a swig, after asking,

"when do you head back?.."

"I dunno. I planned to only stay about two days, but...I just, don't know if I really wanna go back, to the empty apartment, 'cause logan is gunna be off with..her, so I might bum around if I can.."

she's asking to stay. paris already knows it. and she should say no, no to having rory here when she got home where she'll ask paris how work was and they'll playfully bicker about the new article rory’s writing as paris critiques it but of course agrees to edit it for her and they'll have dinner with the kids too and she'll pretend like this is how she lives her life. so when she opens her mouth to dismiss it somehow her lips twist and speak what she shouldn't want.

"as aforementioned, these spare rooms have plenty empty space.."

"thanks.." rory smiles and paris tries to smile back while not thinking of the moment years ago rory came crawling to the apartment in desperate need for somewhere else to stay that wasn't near logan and not because they'd fought and there were apologies to say to mend their own relationship.

instead of all of that, paris feels rory shift against her, sliding down so she rests against her, eyes fluttering closed. paris felt herself growing tired too, no energy but to sink down and let rory rest, wondering how much of it was just the wine. it grew quieter and quieter and paris can find the trace of rory's lavender and without warning her chest constricts, and suddenly she's twenty something on her old apartment couch again beside rory and then she's eighteen collapsing inwards on her only ever spring break trip as rory tucks herself inside the hotel tub with her and then she's sixteen on her first sleepover and counting rory's breaths as she sleeps next to her so they end up falling in place with hers –

"maybe.." rory mumbled, already half-way gone "it can be like before...no guys, just you and me and bad take out..can we do that?.."

"...sure gilmore.." paris murmurs and blinks back the stinging around her eyes, keeping her voice together as it dares to collapse. as she almost dares to believe rory in the moment before she misses logan enough to go back and leaving paris with _you're way too high_ _maintenance_ _for me_ behind with her.

"it can be just us..."

(paris doesn't count this time. rather, rory falls asleep and she holds her hand with fingers interlocked. until rory woke up and paris dropped it like it was nothing she could've wanted).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for bearing through the much needed angst I had to get out.
> 
> We'll be back to your (ir)regularly scheduled sap soon.


End file.
